


Worrying makes you suffer twice

by Salamandersickfic



Series: Worrying makes you suffer twice [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fever, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Sickfic, Sneezing, beast cuddles, newt needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-02 03:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8650462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salamandersickfic/pseuds/Salamandersickfic
Summary: On his return to New York, Newt is under the weather, vulnerable, awkward, and still mourning Credence and other lost friends.The sick!Newt fic noone asked for.





	1. New York Worry

**Author's Note:**

> I've only seen the film once and don't have the script. This hasn't been beta-d, feel free to point out canon or grammar errors. Newt is such a sweetheart I couldn't resist. 
> 
> Otherwise know as the sickfic that nobody asked for, but I desperately needed to write.

i.

Tina Goldstein hurried down two flights of stairs, tying the belt of her robe tightly around her night-dress on the way. She managed to be presentable by the time she made it to the front door. After all, she had a suspicion she knew who might be knocking. Someone who had a tendency to arrive unexpectedly, in both time and manner.

She opened the door and stepped back with a smile of real pleasure.

Newt Scamander stood in the doorway of her appartment building with his magical suitcase in one hand and a slightly damp bouquet of flowers in the other. This she had anticipated.

She hadn't expected him to be soaking wet. The expression 'drowned rat' didn't seem to cover it- Newt's dark blue overcoat was so sodden it looked black, his hair was plastered to his head and even his freckles seemed washed-out. A droplet slipped down the tip of his nose and he shivered visibly.

“Newt! You look terrible!”

“It's nice to see you too!” There was his grin, not spoiled at all by the rain.

“Come in, come up at once.” Tina reached around him to shut the door. She was smiling too, filled with warmth at seeing this dear man again. As they trudged up the stairs she tutted. “You're soaked.”

“It was raining. It does that.”

“But it stopped hours ago.”

“It took me a few hours to get-”

The man paused both his speech and his step but it was only to take a breath and sneeze sharply over his shoulder. He was about to speak, uttered a rough “sorry” and -“ _h'PTSch!_ ”- sneezed again.

“Why on earth didn't you at least apparate from the station?” Tina groaned.

Newt just shrugged. The truth was somewhere between that he had been distracted by sighting what he thought might have been a pixie through the doorway of Grand Central Station, that he wanted to walk through New York the muggle - sorry, No-maj- way, and that his head was so blurry with tiredness that it hadn't occurred to him.

He shrugged again, looked down, tried- “I was- sorry- I thought-” but the words made him cough and it took him a long time to stop.

He drew a handkerchief from an inside pocket and wiped neatly at his nose, which now he drew attention to it, looked chapped and red.

Tina furrowed her brows.

“Are you getting sick?”

“It's really nothing.” Newt mumbled, eyes anywhere but on her.

Tina watched, amused and enchanted by the open, tearful look that animated his face before he tucked the handkerchief over his nose and sneezed a third time.

“So sorry, I do beg your pardon...” Newt looked up over the hankie, met Tina's raised eyebrows and amended himself to, “... perhaps a little under the weather.”

“It sure does look like it.” Tina said. “Come on, one more flight of stairs.”

Newt even let her carry his beloved suitcase.

...

 

Queene Goldstein met them at the door in her own night-dress and with her hair in curlers. Warm light spilled out from behind her and the wireless was playing in the background. She could read Tina's thoughts clearly enough that she didn't need to look at Newt before bursting out.

“Tina? Is he really sick? Is he ok?”

“It's nice to see you too,” Newt said again. “I'm a little under the weather, but you don't need to-”

Queenie swept them into the apartment and hugged Newt with no thought at all for her pink silk nightgown. Tina put the suitcase down and hugged him too, lingering longer and pressing her face into the side of his neck. It was so good to have him back.

It didn't take the sisters long to get Newt settled in a chair with a change of clothes and a warm cup of tea. His coat levitated in front of the heater and the bouquet of scent-changing origami flowers he had brought were settled in a vase with a longevity spell. Despite drying out he couldn't seem to stop shivering and cleared his throat with a painful swallow every few minutes. Tina sat beside him, drinking him in.

As soon as his teeth stopped chattering, Newt launched into an animated account of the last few months including and update on all of his creatures. As if on cue, Picket the bowtruckle crawled out from his pocket and sat on his shoulder with his leaves spread out to dry. In turn Tina told him about being promoted back to Auror and her work cracking down on wizard/no-maj hate crimes. There was a lot to be done in the aftermath of Credence Barebone's rampage.

Newt listened, gradually getting quieter until he was responding only with nods. His eyes had taken on a glassy, pink-edged look to match his running nose. Newt dabbed politely at this with the edge of his hankie. Every so often he would stutter, turn his body completely away from her and sneeze feircely into the shoulder of his jacket. The tight wrench of his body and the exhausted sound of this made Tina wince every time, and every time he emerged with a “I beg your pardon” and another, ineffectual handkerchief dab.

As Newt's resolve weakened, the single sneezes began to come in fits of two or three. Tina halted her conversation when she saw him hover a hand over his nose, that look of distress turning down the corners of his mouth. He cupped the handkerchief over his nose this time and curled to his left, face completely averted to spare her any glimpse of him. His shoulders shook and Picket had to hold on to a lock of his hair to keep from being dislodged.

 

He was clearly embarrassed which in turn made Tina feel awkward. She didn't even say 'gesundheit' even though part of her ached at every sign of his infirmity. It just wasn't like the Newt she knew, and she had to idea what to do about it.

Luckily, Queenie didn't know the meaning of shyness. She watched the pair from across the kitchen for a good half an hour until she couldn't stand it any longer. She sat right down on the edge of his armchair, and tilted his chin up to her in one hand so she could take a look at him.

“How you feelin' really, Mister Scamander?” She asked in her no-nonsense accent.

Newt squirmed, suddenly shy. It must be a cultural thing, he wasn't used to such a fuss being made of him.

“Cold.” He admitted.

“Head hurts?” Queenie pressed.

A nod.

“Sore throat?”

Another nod.

“And let me just...” Queenie touched the tip of her want to his temple. Thin golden ribbons emerged from the end and looped into a number. “Yup, running a fever.”

Well, there was no arguing with that, so he didn't.

Tina glared at her sister, her thoughts clear. _Stop intruding, can't we have some time to ourselves?_  
Queenie thought back _if you'll take proper care of him I'll step back. Get him to bed then, poor boy._

All she said out loud was “I'm gonna make you some pepper-up potion.”

“Thank you, I'm so sorry to bother you.” Newt said.

“Nonsense. I'll make that potion and let Tina put you to bed.” She said pointedly, retreading.

.......

 

Tina did indeed settle Newt in one of the two single beds and sat down on the other.

He'd finished Queenie's pepper-up potion without a word of complaint and wisps of steam were still issuing from his ears, but he didn't seem to be feeling much better. Perhaps it would take a while to kick in.

In the meantime he was snugly settled under a pile of blankets, the reading lamp beside him turned low. His boyish face was half in shadow, his curls in disarray. On impulse, Tina went to him and smoothed them back with one hand so they were out of his face. He was very warm.

“I think your temperature is up.” She said.

“Not to worry.” Newt said. “I'm sure I can sleep it off. But you and Queenie have been awfully kind. I was hoping I'd be better by the time I made it here and instead I'm a mess.”

“How long have you been sick?” Tina asked.

“Three day-s” His voice caught on the second word but he carried on, ticklishly. “M-maybe fo- uh- oh dear- _h'PTSch!_ ”

“Never mind.” She said, then on impulse. “Bless you.”

“Thank you.”

She sighed helplessly. “Maybe I should go.”

Something stopped her, it was Newt's warm hand on her own as he stammered, “I- you really don't have to. I might fall asleep but I was thinking you could- if you wanted to- you could read the introduction to my book and tell me what you think?”

Tina reached over and hugged him.

“Of course I want to read it. I'd love to read it.”

She opened his case and took out the crisp new copy, all sweet-smelling leather and rich gold embossing.

“'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' by Newt Scamander.” She read aloud.

But Newt Scamander himself was already asleep.


	2. Beasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Processing what happened in New York is hard on his body and his mind. Newt seeks solace with his beasts.

 

\-----------Four days previously---------

 

Newt Scamander had been in the Ministry of Magic all day and his voice was starting to run out. 

“Does that conclude your account?” The witch in front of him asked.

“It does, yes.” Newt confirmed.

“There are no other points that seem relevant?”

“No.”

“Does the committee have any other questions?” She addressed the witches and wizards that shared her table. They shuffled their notes and mumbled for a very long time before concluding that they did not.

“So I'm free to go?”

He stood up without waiting for permission, causing the witch's eyes to narrow in suspicion.

“You seem awfully keen to leave the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, Mister Scamander.” She said drily.

 

Newt had spent most of the meeting slumped and looking off to one side, his usual stance when confronted by large groups of accusing people. Now he drew himself up to his full height.

“Not at all, Madam.” He said. “It's just that today I've given the same account to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and I spent all day yesterday with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures giving that same account to the Beast division, the Spirit division and the sub-division for the Office of Misinformation because they couldn't seem to be in a room at the same time.”

This was quite a long speech for Newt, but he continued; 

“so unless you would like me to give that exact same account to the Department of Magical Games and Sports or perhaps to the Committee on Experimental Charms, I would _quite_ like to go home.”

 

The witch had the grace to look amused.

 

“Very well, Mister Scamander. Have a good night.”

 

With that he fled the room.

 

.....

 

It was a relief to get out on the street, even if the fresh air of London was chilly and damp. His throat felt hot and sore. He hadn't spoken so much in one go in... perhaps he never had. He certainly hadn't spent that much time surrounded by humans and away from his beasts since he had been expelled from Hogwarts.

That wasn't the worst of it. He could hear his own words washing around in his head, telling the end of the story-

 

_-and then they killed him. He was just calming down, he was about to let me come over, then they killed him. I could have saved him if they'd given me more time. I should have-_

 

Poor Credence. He never had a chance. Newt had been sentenced to death, tortured with the _crucio_ curse, had his body slammed against stonework by the force of the Obscurus, but that wasn't the worst of it. The worst of it was Credence's face, his rage and pain, which Newt could have helped-

 

_-he was hurting so much and he was innocent. We did everything wrong-_

 

Credence's face. The abuse Newt had seen in Tina's memories.

He couldn't seem to stop thinking about it.

 

Newt found some relief when he returned to the room he was renting near the Ministry building. As soon as the door was locked behind him he took off the formal robes he'd worn to the Ministry hearing and shrugged into his blue overcoat. As he did so he sneezed suddenly, knocking himself off balance.

There was a tiny, high-pitched sound from one of the suit pockets and a moment later a spindly green creature climbed up to his shoulder where it swayed.

“Picket!” Newt exclaimed. “You're a bad bowtruckle. I thought I told you to stay in the trunk.”

Picket shrugged it's leaves and nestled into Newt's hair.

“I missed you too.” Newt told it. “At least you did stay in my coat and didn't join me at the Ministry. Hold on-” He managed to steady the little creature with one hand while he cupped the other around his nose as it started to itch again. He sneezed sharply, making the bowtruckle chirp in alarm.

“Pardon. So sorry- are you alright up there?”

His nose was still itchy but Newt dismissed it with a swipe of his knuckles. He had more important things to do.

 

.........

 

His muscles ached when he swung himself down into his suitcase, but the moment he got inside Newt's spirit lifted somewhat. The smell of the place, of vegetation and rare flowers, even the musky scent of the beasts themselves, was comfortable and familiar.

 

There was work to keep his mind busy and better still, he wasn't alone any more.

 

With the exception of a quick look-in before collapsing into bed last night, Newt hadn't been down here for two days. Thus he was occupied by slicing meat, pouring cereal into dishes and sorting seeds. Some beasts needed their medicine; carefully calibrated doses of potion in flasks. Some of the spells separating the different zones and maintaining the climate needed shoring up. It added up to several hours of spell work before he even started his rounds to check on and feed the creatures.

 

By this time his back was definitely throbbing and so was his head. The uncomfortable tickle in his nose was easier to ignore when he was working in the sheds or the office, more difficult when faced with sensitive creatures that hated sudden movements. It wouldn't do to startle the Graphorns which were doing so well recently.

Newt visited each creature in turn and took his time with it, offering gentle touches and reassuring words. Even the murtlap seemed pleased to see him, in a tentacled and naked kind of a way. By the time he finished, the atmospheric controls he had installed were dimming past twilight and into night- it was important to provide regular cycles of light and dark, especially for his nocturnal and diurnal friends.

The darkening sky served to remind Newt he had been down here too long. This was deliberate- it stopped him from spending days at a time down here and forgetting to eat, at least in theory. He had better go up in a moment and go to bed.

 

Bed seemed appealing but the ladder was steep. And the room up there was lonely. And the moment he lay down Newt would start thinking about Credence again.

He decided to stay for a few more minutes and have a go at putting Picket back with his family.

 

He approached the 'family tree' where the rest of his Bowtruckles lived and the little creature at his neck stiffened and clung on to his hair.

“Come on, you can't stay with me forever.” Newt coaxed. His voice was lower than usual, soft and hoarse but still patient and kind. “Come on, there's a good fellow...”

He mustered all his effort into keeping his voice careful but firm, his hand moving steadily away with no sharp movements.

“ _There's_ a good fellow.” He breathed again as Picket clambered onto the branch and scuttled beneath a leaf. “See, it's not so bad.”

 

But it was, it was.

 

_-Credence had looked at him like that, like a hurting creature, and Newt had tried to use his voice but there wasn't enough time and Grindelwald had-_

 

Newt put a hand to his temple. Where had that ache come from? A dull pain spread behind his eyes and to either side of his nose, which was running. And speaking of his nose, he felt like he might-

“ _h'_ _ **PTsch**_ _!_ ” He sneezed sharply, sending the Bowtruckles cowering for cover.

“So sorry! It's alright. It's only me.”

He had to sneeze again. By habit he tucked his head politely against the crook of his shoulder. The sound was only soft but it made him shudder.

“... oh dear.” He stuttered, digging out a handkerchief from his pocket.

 

This didn't bode well at all.

Perhaps he could just sit down here for a moment and have a rest.

 

He set his back against the bole of the tree and looked up through the branches at the artificial sky where stars of his own conjuring shone bright and clear. The Bowtruckles emerged one by one from their hiding places. Beady eyes watched him carefully and a moment later he felt a light pressure on his shoulder. Picket was back. Somehow he didn't mind so much.

“I'm sorry I startled you.” Newt said aloud. Picket chirped.

It was comfortable here. the temperature in this section was temperate and pleasant.

“I'll get up in a minute.” Newt told himself as much as his friend.

 

Then he felt a slight pressure on his lap. Something unseen but very soft and weighing a couple of pounds had handed on his legs.

 

He reached out a hand and touched feathers. A moment later the bird itself puffed into appearance- it was one of the diricawls, the plump birds muggles mistook for dodos. They were notoriously shy; he hadn't seen this particular one in close quarters for weeks. The diricawl gave Newt a beady eye and laid her head confidently against his chest, appearing to go to sleep.

 

Something else was moving beside him too. He looked around without disturbing the diricawl and caught a glimpse of Dougal the niffler worming his sleek black body into the space behind the small of Newt's back and the tree truck. He was a comforting warmth.

A smiled cracked Newt's face. His head still throbbed and his nose was blocked now. He was definitely coming down with something.

 

_-He had held out his hands to the boy and he had been too slow, and Grindelwald had- Credence had-_

 

But on his lap and around his shoulders and leaning in all around him were signs of the good he could do in the world. He had lost one, but he hadn't lost them all. There was some hope here. Besides, he'd be off to New York to see Tina in a few days time.

Newt felt awful but his mind was quieter.

 

He fell asleep surrounded by feathers and fur, and for once he didn't dream.

 

 

 

 


	3. Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queenie sighed. “He's not sleeping well because he's sick, you're not sleeping well because you're worried about him and I'm not sleeping well because your thoughts won't quit. Why don't you go sit with him for a bit and maybe we'll all get some rest.”

Iii.

No one in the apartment got a lot of sleep that night.

Newt slept fretfully, surfacing to wakefulness as he see-sawed between hot and cold. He drew the covers to himself, kicked them off and then shivered again. His nose was too blocked to breathe through and his chest crackled when he breathed more deeply. Worse, he was unsure where he was and kept opening his eyes in the half light and expecting to see Jacob in the bed across from him.

Across the hallway, Tina woke every time she heard Newt coughing. The sound made her ball her hands into fists with the desire to make it better, but she didn't want to intrude. He was clearly a private and solitary man. 

In the room beside Tina's, Queenie Goldstein was prodded from sleep first by the sound of Newt and then by the loud, concerned thoughts of her sister. 

“Teenie,” she called out,“can you quit thinking so hard? You're keeping me awake.”

Tina rose from her bed and came to Queenie's room to reply to her. “Shh, you'll wake Newt.”

The blonde sat up in bed and fixed Tina with her large blue eyes. “He ain't sleeping. Not well. Why don't you go see if he needs anything?”

“I...”

Queenie sighed. “He's not sleeping well because he's sick, you're not sleeping well because you're worried about him and I'm not sleeping well because your thoughts won't quit. Why don't you go sit with him for a bit and maybe we'll all get some rest.”

Tina squirmed. She wanted to, but she didn't know what to say. 

Her sister fixed her with her large, blue eyes. “You go see him or I will.”

“Dammit Queenie!”

Tina took a detour to grab her robe and slippers. She hovered for a moment in the hallway then pushed open the door and slipped inside.

.....

Newt woke slowly. His head felt thick and clogged. His throat was burning. He had been dreaming- 

-down in the station, facing the obscurus. Credence's face emerged out of the mass, eyes begging Newt to do something and he had been too slow- 

It was a relief to surface from the dream, even if what greeted him on waking was a fit of coughing that made the bedframe shake and a needling tickle start high in his nose.

There wasn't time to grab a handkerchief and Newt just bucked forward, smothering his face in the mattress with a sneeze. The sensation wasn't gone but that cleared his head enough for him to sit up.

“Gesundheit.”

That was Tina's voice. She was sitting opposite, dressed in her work clothes down to sensible low-heeled shoes. A magical newspaper lay open on her lap and two cups of coffee steamed on table between the beds. 

Newt blinked at her, pieced together where was and smiled. He pushed his curls out of his face and cleared his throat.

“Tina- hello.” 

“Hello yourself. How are you doing?” 

“Fine, fine, not to worry.” Newt blustered. He kicked the covers off, started to rise and sat back down sharply.

“Newt-?”

He managed a sheepish smile. “On second thoughts I feel absolutely dreadful.”

“Oh Newt.” Tina sighed. “I'm not surprised.”

Something passed between them. Her gaze was warm, warmer than he'd seen it, and Newt felt an unforseen impulse to rest his head on her shoulder. 

This was rudely interrupted when Queenie breezed into the room. 

“How is everyone this morning?”

She was wearing a sleek silk shirt with a string of pearls, audaciously glamorous pumps and a guileless smile.

Newt quickly flipped the covers over his pyjama clad legs and seemed to sink beneath them. If he could have tugged the blankets over his head he would have done.

There was no drawing attention away from himself because the need to sneeze surfaced again. He waved a hand in warning, “Hang on-- huh---” The next moment he was hiding his face in the crook of his shoulder and sneezing.

“'...ugh, I beg your pardon.” He finished.

Queenie winced sympathetically. “That good, huh, honey?” She went as far as to conjure two handkerchiefs out of a nearby drawer before approaching the bed. She actually ruffled his copper coloured hair and planted a kiss on the top of his head before he could flinch away.

Then she looked at Tina expectantly. 

“You all ready to go?”

Tina frowned. Looked at her sister, looked at Newt, looked at her sister - 

“I'm not going to work today.” 

Queenie clapped her hands in approval. “Could you be any more of a rebel?” She exclaimed, and as an aside to Newt, “She must like you, she hasn't taken any time off since she's gotten the auror job back.” To Tina she said, “Shall I tell them you're sick?”

“Tell them whatever you like.”

....................

 

To tell the truth, it was a relief to Tina when her sister left. Queenie was probably a better nurse than Tina was, but she could also be a little overwhelming. It was more comfortable without someone who could read her thoughts and would take peeps to see if she could read Newt's too. Not that he was hard to read at the moment. Whether he knew it or not, what that man wanted was a hot drink and some more sleep.

“I'm so sorry to inconvenience you, really. You really don't have to stay home, you should go if the Ministry needs you, I can-”

“Shush.” She managed the clipped tone he remembered from their first few meetings and Newt dutifully shushed. 

It was hard to be taken seriously when he really, really had to blow his nose. As he did so Tina cornered him on the edge of the bed and touched her wand to his forehead. A few gold sparks slid out. She tried again then shook her head. 

“I didn't learn those kind of spells. Queenie was always the one for that side of things. Here, let me just...”

Instead she checked his temperature with hands cupped on either side of his face. They felt so cool that Newt actually closed his eyes, leaning in to her like one his creatures. 

“Do you feel feverish?” She asked.

He sighed. “Yes.” 

“Do you think you could go back to sleep?”

“Yes but,” he hovered a hand in front of his nose and was already turning away from her as he tried to make his point. The following sentence was punctuated by muffled, apologetic sneezes. “I don't have to- I need to see my - creatures and the new Occamy eggs will hatch any- any- dear me. So sorry.”

“Don't be. Look, your coffee has gone cold. Here.” With a wave of her wand the cold cup of coffee because a hot cup of tea with a jug of milk beside it. “Better?”

Newt might have fallen in love with her then, if he hadn't already. 

“I'm going to go read some reports in the kitchen and I'll mix some more Pepper-up. That first dose didn't seem to do anything for you, did it? You're going to try and go back to sleep. I'll wake you up for lunch, alright?”

“Alright.” 

Newt heard an Auror's sternness in her voice and obediently lay back down. It did feel good. A little sunlight streamed in from the net curtains behind him and lit the tassels hanging from the table lamp. He drew the sheets up over his head and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone think of a better exclamation or swear for Tina than "dammit"? Do American witches say "Merlin!"? Help me out? 
> 
> Also I changed my mind, there's going to be a fourth part.


	4. In good company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love that Newt gets tearful when he's upset. We need more male characters that express their emotions so freely. So expect some of that.  
> Also I really love Queenie and how forward she is compared to Newt. Such a fun dynamic to write.  
> Thanks for all the feedback especially about swears and exclamations.

 

Newt Scamander awoke and realized he hadn't fed his creatures.

The realization came to him quite suddenly. The floor was painted with long, low beams of light from a sun that was far past midday.

When he sat up his head swam. It was worse when he rose to standing; the cold air assaulted him like something physical and sent shivers coursing over his limbs. He found his coat on the back of a chair and tugged it over his pyjamas, shoved his feet into his shoes and opened the suitcase, though as an afterthought he did grab a clean handkerchief from the bedside table and tucked it into his pocket.

Climbing down the ladder was difficult for some reason. He felt dizzy and unreasonably tired, so tired it was difficult to think. That was no reason not to get to work since most of the basic care of the creatures was automatic by now. His hands and wand found supplies and organized supplies and he began his rounds.

“Newt!”

Someone calling his name. The sound was quite faint across the magical distance but he lifted his head.

“Newt Scamander? Sweet Mercy Lewis, are you down in that suitcase?”

Yes, that was Tina.

“I'm here.” He called up.

She came through the door, embraced him and then held him out at arm's length for inspection. He averted his eyes further from her than usual, aware that he must look a state.

Tina Goldstein pressed the back of her hand to his cheek and gave an exasperated sigh that puffed her cheeks out. His fever was up again, as high as it had been the night before. He couldn't seem to shake this thing, whatever it was.

She started a few different sentences in her mind, opened her lips to scold him and then shook her head minutely. “Is there any point in telling you to come back to bed?”

He grinned, glad she'd understood. “No.”

“I thought not. Will you at least let me help?”

Newt seemed to think about it, hazel eyes gazing off and unfocused.

“What?” Tina said impatiently.

“Are you ok?” Tina asked; his eyes were bleary and misfocused. Newt passed a hand over his face and nodded.

“Just a little light headed. Let's start taking these around to the Fwoopers, then I'll see if the Graphorn enclosure needs shoring up and we can-”

“Newt-” The woman put herself between Newt and the door to get his attention.

It was his turn to ask innocently, “what?”

“I'm worried about you.” Tina finished.

Newt shrugged and she let him move past her and towards his precious creatures.

“Don't worry. I always say worrying just makes you suffer twice.”

 _As if once isn't enough, you wonderful, ridiculous man-_ Tina thought, and followed.

 

......

 

It was always wonderful to watch Newt with his creatures. Even, or perhaps especially when he was under the weather, he approached them with a tenderness which was palpable. Tina did her share of watering, handing out meals and applying some medicinal charms to the more peaceable creatures. She also did her share of watching over Newt. He managed surprisingly well for someone with a raging temperature but he was unsteady on his feet.

They finished the last of the medicine and arrived back at the shed where they had started. There had been a surprising amount to do. Newt rested for a moment on a bench underneath a tangle of plants and Tina perched beside him.

She asked, “Do you really do all this every day? By yourself?”

“Yes.” Newt nodded. “Some things can be done remotely by magic but it's just not the same as doing it in person. They need to see a familiar face.”

The face in question was pale as milk with the exception of two spots of colour high on his cheekbones and one where his chapped lower lip had cracked. Newt leaned on the arm of the bench to steady himself. “I'm _quite_ dizzy,” he said, as though making an observation about the weather “But we're nearly finished. I'll just go and see Frank.”

He gestured towards the back corner of the enclosures.“Stay back. He doesn't like strangers.”

“Newt-” Tina caught his arm before he could rise.

“I promise I'll go to bed as soon as I've seen Frank. He gets lonely.” He told her seriously. Just the thought of visiting the thunderbird seemed to make him feel better. The fever lit his eyes but it was a glassy, over-focused look that Tina didn't much like.

Tina didn't want to break the news, but he would work it out soon enough.

“Newt- Frank's gone. You let him go. Remember?”

The moment she said it, Newt remembered completely and his head was by cleared a wave of sadness. It rose in his throat and blossomed behind his eyes, joining with the heat of illness in a tide of quiet misery. His hands hid his face.

“Frank's gone.” His voice wavered and Tina put her arms around his shoulders. They shook minutely under her touch.

Newt was very still for a moment.

He wiped a tear away with one knuckle and tried to smile even though his mouth was quivering. “I- Frank's gone back where he belongs. I did it. I set him free.”

“You did.” Tina said comfortingly. “He's probably very happy.”

Newt nodded. Swallowed. “Yes.”

“You miss him, don't you?”

“Every day.”

There was a pause during which Newt blew his nose and rubbed his hands distractedly over his eyes, trying and failing to clear his head. He slumped against her until his head was nuzzled in her shoulder and she let him, gladly. Tina felt as though she had swallowed something hot and warm. It was entirely inappropriate to swell with joy when the source of her joy was so miserable, but it sang through her regardless. She pressed her cheek against the top of his head and felt the warmth there.

“I feel dreadful,” he murmured into her shoulder.

“I know. Will you come to bed now?”

She didn't wait for him to nod but apparated them both up the ladder and into her apartment.

....

 

It was dark when Queenie Goldstein came home from the Ministry and heavy sleet lashed the streets of New York. Her magically enhanced umbrella kept much of it off but she was still glad to get inside. The apartment was very quiet. The lights in the parlour were off but a beam of gold showed under the door to the bedroom and she gave it a tentative knock before pushing it open.

The table lamp in here was on but the curtains weren't drawn. Newt was lying in much the same position she had left him in this morning... but her sister was lying on top of the covers of the same bed. She was in a half-sitting position that let him rest his head against the crook of her shoulder. He held a balled up hankie in one loose fist and Pickett the bowtruckle reclined in the other.

Newt himself didn't stir but Tina opened her eyes and lifted her head. She put her finger to her lips and thought at Queenie, _Don't you dare wake him, he needs his sleep._

“I won't.” Queenie mouthed back. She sat at the foot of the bed and looked closely at the man who had fallen asleep in her sister's arms. “How is he?”

Tina see-sawed a hand to indicate _so-so. Not so good._ With care she shrugged the man to the mattress and sat up properly. Newt barely twitched.

He had been crying in his sleep. Tear tracks streaked his freckled cheeks and his eyes were swollen.

“Poor baby. He looks awful!” Queenie tutted. She again touched Newt's forehead with her wand and wasn't surprised at the number that curled out. Lower, not dangerous, just enough to make him exhausted.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Tina asked.

“Sure honey.” Queenie nodded. “I think you're gonna find it useful for a day or two.”

“Yeah. Can you make a better fever reducer? The standard one barely touched it.”

“Sure I can. I'm gonna do that now and leave you to it.”

Queenie managed to keep a smile off her face until she exited the bedroom. When she was sure noone could see, she punched the air and allowed herself a grin. The way they held each other. She _knew_ it.

 

.............

 

_The huge, beautiful bird flew up into the sky of New York and the storm began. The clouds roiled and the thunder was loud enough for Newt to feel it in his bones, in his head and his raw throat. Frank flew away without a real goodbye. It wasn't how Newt had imagined it. He had wanted to cast protective charms on the bird, to nestle his head into the feathers one more time and tell him to be careful. Now he was gone and Newt couldn't-_

_-Credence- the Obscurus that was Credence exploded around them- Newt tried to reach out- he could help, but the ministry had-_

_-Frank was gone. Credence was gone-_

 

It was hard to keep Newt Scamander in bed.

Tina was alerted from the living room. Newt was awake (again) and she could hear him moving around (again.) She put down the file she was writing up and headed back to the bedroom to find the suitcase open on the floor and Newt nowhere to be seen.

_Honestly. That man._

She climbed down after him, half-expecting to find him passed out at the bottom of the ladder. Instead she head a sound that couldn't be any other creature- coughs, the mumble of Newt apologizing and blowing his nose. It was close by. It took Tina only a minute to see that he was coming from behind a little curtain in the corner of the shed.

 

She pulled back the fabric to see exactly what she expected- Newt Scamander sitting on a metal camp-bed, still in his pyjamas, with an expression that was guilty and also kind of ticklish. He sneezed politely into the crook of his shoulder, managed, “I beg your pardon-” and then repeated the action again. As soon as he had finished, a familiar chattering noise indicated the Pickett was none too pleased by having his adopted “tree” shaken with such force.

“Pickett thinks I'm broken.” Newt said, by way of explanation. “Look Pickett, it's Tina.”

His colour was a little better at least and he was smiling.

She sat beside him and held out a hand, allowing the bowtruckle to climb onto her fingers. He kept his leafy head directed at Newt, but this was something of a compliment.

“Are you really ok down here?” Tina asked. “You should be resting.”

“I am resting.”

“Really?”

“Truly.” Newt gestured to the camp bed where the sheets were turned back and still held the impression of his body.

As Tina stared, the sheets moved. Fractionally at first and then with vigour, the blanket near the foot of the bed crested like a wave and a familiar pink snout appeared. A moment later, Newt's niffler emerged and made a curious sound as though asking where it's source of warmth had gone.

There were more sounds too. A soft hissing underneath the frame of the bed intensified as the faces of not one or two but all of the baby Occamys peered out, blinking their gem-like eyes. Newt held out a hand and one of them coiled into it.

“Is- is there anyone else in there I should know about?” Tina asked.

Newt considered, wiping his pink nose. “Only Dougal but you can't see him and he predicts the future enough to move before you roll over, so I don't know if he counts.

Tina had to laugh. “I guess not. How are you feeling?”

The man on the bed shrugged. “Fine. Better. Thank you. I'm really so sorry to bother-”

“You're not a bother.” Tina said firmly. “You still don't sound good. Would you like some tea?”

“That would be lovely.”

The man seemed to run out of energy then and lowered himself back onto the bed. Tina made tea with her wand but half her attention was on looking around the cluttered shed. There were notes and drawings pinned to the walls including a world map so cluttered with coloured pins that the continents were obscured. The room smelled slightly of hay, old wood and tar, like the hardware store of her childhood. Newt seemed happier here, more relaxed than he had been in her apartment. Even his breathing seemed easier and he was more willing to lie down.

Her eye was caught by an unlikely cluster of objects by the side of the bed. Beside a neatly folded handkerchief and a tin cup of water there lay a feather the length of her forearm. Light seemed to play along the edge of it, catching the mottled patterns in tan and gold. Next to that there was a scrap of black fabric. Tina had seen that somewhere before, it reminded her of... as she watched, Newt reached down, gathered up the scrap of Credence's jacket and tucked it into his pyjama pocket. He touched feather with one fingertip and the light seemed to gather to him, bathing his face.

 

It seemed Newt Scamander didn't forgive himself lightly and neither did he forget old friends.

She would worry about him, but what was it that had Newt said?

 _Worrying just makes you suffer twice_.

Tina could do with a respite from suffering and now was a good time to start.

 

 

THE END.

 


End file.
